


Girls' Night Out

by GrumpyGhostOwl



Series: Battle of the Planets: 2163 [22]
Category: Battle of the Planets
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 15:57:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8630341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyGhostOwl/pseuds/GrumpyGhostOwl
Summary: Work's done for the day and the girls - the highly trained and well-armed girls - from Galaxy Security are heading out to grab a few drinks and blow off some steam. Princess tags along and learns a few things, including the tequila chant.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Katblu42 for beta reading. The tattoo parlour idea was the product of the twisted mind of Shayron Alvarado who, along with Kat Ross, was kind enough to explain in detail how tequila works, including the tequila chant. There are some things I’m just not brave enough to try. And yes, I know it’s Oaxaca Mezcals, not Tequila, that have the worm in them, but still… It’s a common misconception so I decided to have the characters run with it. They can’t be right about everything!

**G-FORCE READY ROOM, CENTER NEPTUNE**

 

"A what?" Princess' left foot drew invisible circles in the air. The foot in question was crossed over her other ankle, which hung over one arm of the sofa in the G-Force Ready Room. At the other end of the sofa, the other end of Princess was taking a call on an old-fashioned corded telephone, left hand supporting the handpiece while the right was occupied twirling the cord into knotty oblivion in time-honoured fashion. "They really want me along?" She paused and listened to her friend's attempt at persuasion. "You sure I won't cramp your style? I mean... Well... As long as nobody minds... I suppose... Maybe... It'd be nice to hang out and talk girl stuff." Princess started unravelling the telephone cord. "You think so?" She worked out a couple of kinks and tugged as her index finger became caught in the loops. "It sounds like it could be fun. Okay. Count me in."  
  
Sitting in an armchair that had been pulled up close to the coffee table, Jason was using an interactive 3V display to complete a registration form.  
  
"Jason?" Princess said sweetly, having hung up from her phone call.  
  
"What do you want?" Jason asked, recognising Princess' tone for what it was.  
  
"What makes you think I want something?" Princess hedged, and got up off the sofa.  
  
"You only ever use that cutesy tone of voice when you want something. Cut to the chase unless you want an automatic, 'no,'" Jason warned as Princess approached.  
  
"You're no fun," Princess accused, and perched on the arm of his chair. "What are you doing?"  
  
"It’s my registration for the _Africa Nine Thousand_ ," Jason said. A shadow of regret flickered across his eyes before he composed his features and met Princess' gaze. "Would you believe Anderson wants to assign me a co-driver from Internal Security this year instead of letting me pick someone I can work with? It's so nice to know that he trusts my judgement."  
  
Princess didn't pass comment, but stared at the display instead.  
  
"Say," Jason said, "I don't suppose you'd like to accompany me on an all-expenses paid adventure through Darkest Africa? I could use someone who knows one end of a spanner from the other."  
  
"Me? Co-drive with you?"  
  
"Why not? You’re a decent driver and the rate at which you learn stuff, I can bring you up to speed – pun intended – and get you registered in no time at all. We already know we work well together and if your security clearance isn't high enough to satisfy the Chief, I don't know whose is. C'mon, it could be fun."  
  
"Let me think about it," Princess said.  
  
"It could make Mark jealous..." Jason teased. He ducked the half-hearted swat she aimed at his head. The fact that she didn't connect was proof enough for Jason that she didn't mean it. "But anyway, what did you want to ask me?"  
  
"I was hoping you could sit with Keyop for me tomorrow night," Princess said. "I know you don't have a date."  
  
"And how do you know that?" Jason challenged.  
  
"Because I'm tagging along with Fran and a couple of the ladies from the Chief's security detail on a girls' night out," Princess said. "At least, I am if I can find a sitter."  
  
Jason considered. Tiny was out of town visiting Captain Jack. Mark was flying simulations for a weapons upgrade on the G-1 all weekend. That left one candidate. "Can't you ask Jill?"  
  
"I'm asking you. Please? I'll bake a batch of those chocolate chunk peanut butter cookies that you like."  
  
"Okay," Jason sighed. "But only because of the cookies," he added.  
  
  


**  
**

**SNACK J DINER, CENTER CITY**

 

The gleaming red Nissan 2500Z screeched to a growling halt by the kerb, the streetlights reflecting brilliantly in the glossy new paintwork. The driver pulled the handbrake on and shut the engine down. Both doors opened, allowing the driver and passenger to get out.  
  
The driver was a tall slender woman in her late thirties with honey coloured hair and brown eyes. She wore leather pants with a white silk shirt and a leather jacket in whose pocket she jangled the car keys. Her passenger, who had opted for a little black dress and dangerously high heels, was slightly older, slightly shorter, and slightly shaken.  
  
"When you said it cornered well," the older woman said, her English accent sharp in the evening air, "I assumed you were going to slow down for at least _some_ of them!" Alberta Jones pushed long strands of pale ash blonde hair back from her face and made her way to the door of the Snack J Café, savouring the sensation of standing on solid ground. She opened the door, which set off a gentle tinkle of bells, and walked inside with Shay Alban close behind her.  
  
Jason and Keyop were sitting at one of the booths while Jill, the café manager, served other customers. "New car, Shay?" Jason said by way of greeting.  
  
"Picked it up yesterday," Shay said with a quick grin.  
  
"Not bad," Jason said, smiling. "A little under-powered, though."  
  
"You say that about anything that can't break the sound barrier," Princess said from the stairs. She and Fran had spent the last hour in the bathroom working on hair and makeup. Princess wore her usual civilian uniform but had added a lightweight pink jacket to the ensemble. Her hair had been curled into spiral ringlets that cascaded over her shoulders.  
  
"Wow," Jason said.  
  
"We'll both take that as a compliment," Fran declared. She was wearing a red mini-dress with red patent leather boots, a look that only a young attractive brunette like Fran could ever get away with. "Looks like the gang's all here. Let's hit the road!"  
  
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Jason said, as the women headed for the door.  
  
Jill chuckled. "That should give you girls plenty of scope!" she quipped. “You girls have fun now!”  
  
“Bye!” Princess called as Shay opened the door and began ushering the group onto the sidewalk. "Keyop, you behave yourself, and no staying up past your bed time. And make sure you finish your homework. And no candy after supper. And remember to brush your teeth. And -"  
  
"Come on!" Fran said and hauled Princess outside by one arm. The other women followed them.  
  
They stopped next to Shay's brand new sports coupé.  
  
"How do we all fit into that thing?" Princess wanted to know, surveying the extremely small passenger space.  
  
"Like hedgehogs," Alberta said wryly. "Very carefully," she added by way of explanation.  
  
"You're just jealous," Shay declared. "Come on, quit griping and get in."  
  
  
  
Jason watched the red Nissan pull away from the kerb and leap forward with a roar and a squeal of tyres. He chuckled quietly to himself and shook his head. "I guess it's safe to go upstairs and open a window to let the hairspray fumes out," he said to Keyop.  
  
"Girls!" the boy commented, wrinkling his nose.  
  
"Say that again in a couple years," Jason muttered, chuckling.  
  
  
  
In the cramped back seat of the Nissan, Princess and Fran clutched at the headrests in front of them, their knees drawn up under their chins. In the front passenger seat, Alberta was gripping the panic handle, white knuckled.  
  
"Major Alban," she said through clenched teeth, "as a superior officer, I'm _ordering_ you to slow down!"  
  
"Doesn't count, _Colonel_. We're off duty," Shay said cheerfully. "You know your trouble?"  
  
"I suspect you're about to enlighten me," Alberta said.  
  
"You have no sense of adventure."  
  
"I have a very healthy sense of adventure," Alberta retorted. "What I lack is a sense of complete and utter disregard for my own safety and the safety of -- _RED LIGHT, DAMN IT!_ "  
  
Seconds later, Princess pushed herself back into her seat and reminded herself she could resume breathing. "Maybe if we slowed down just a tiny bit?" she suggested hopefully.  
  
"Yes," Fran said, her hands braced against the back of the front passenger seat. “Yes, let’s.”  
  
Alberta merely uttered a small and inarticulate sound which might have been a repressed scream.  
  
"Oh, okay already!" Shay said reluctantly.  
  
  
  


 

**SNACK J DINER, CENTER CITY**

 

"Don't you have to finish your homework?" Jason asked.  
  
"Done!" Keyop said.  
  
"Okay." Jason said. "What do you want to watch?" He pressed a key on the 3VC remote to bring up the programme guide.  
  
"What's this detective noyer movie marathon?" Keyop asked.  
  
" _Detective noir_ ," Jason corrected. "Those gritty old 2D movies, usually with Humphrey Bogart in 'em."  
  
Keyop brightened. "Oh, those old stories. My English tutor was telling me about ‘em a while back."  
  
"Detective stories in English class?" Jason asked.  
  
"Yeah, she was talking about popular culture and how media both informed and mirrored society or some such dreck. I thought you liked detective stories."  
  
"I do, but I think some of this stuff's a little... um... mature for you."  
  
"As opposed to being sent on missions where I kill people? People, I might add, who are actively trying to kill _me._ "  
  
"Yeah, well, point taken but don't you think we should try to preserve at least some of your alleged innocence until you're older? What would Doctor McCall say if she knew I was exposing your fragile developing psyche to Dashiell Hammett for crying out loud?"  
  
Keyop grinned. "Are you gonna tell her?"  
  
"Okay, fine. We'll watch the movies, but don't blame me if you're bored, confused or just disturbed. Of course,” Jason added after a moment, “I’m not completely sure how we’d tell the difference from your usual mental state – _oof!_ " Jason laughed as Keyop hit him with a cushion.  
  
  


 

 

**AMANO'S BAR, CENTER CITY**

 

Amano's Bar was an ideal place to go if you thought you were looking for trouble. This was because Amano’s was the closest watering hole to the ISO Tower and its owner-manager was a former Galaxy Security officer. As a result, the vast majority of the regular customers at Amano's were ISO staff, with the majority of those belonging to Galaxy Security (this agency being somewhat over-represented at the Tower.) Most Galaxy Security officers might not be heavy drinkers, but when they did have a drink at the end of a long shift, they liked to be able to concentrate on said drink in peace and quiet. Anyone who thought that disturbing a bar full of tired, highly trained and above all _well-armed_ security officers in their search for trouble at Amano's was almost certainly guaranteed to find it. This tended to bring about an extraordinarily rapid change of heart wherein the individual looking for trouble found themselves inclined to re-think their goals fairly promptly. Usually from a prone position. Bleeding was optional but was generally not encouraged for reasons of hygiene.  
  
There was a sign over the bar that read in large print, "CHECK WEAPONS HERE," and in smaller print below it read, "Management accepts no responsibility for faulty weapons."  
  
The owner had installed a karaoke machine in one corner a week earlier. It had lasted exactly four hours and eight minutes before someone shot it. Subsequently, the proprietor had been obliged to bring back the piano player who promptly demanded danger money. Fortunately however, the patrons weren't inclined to shoot piano players. Not unless they tried to sing karaoke anyway, in which case all bets were off.  
  
The pianist was currently playing a slightly nervous rendition of _Heart and Soul_. Since he wasn't singing off key and just out of synch with a backing track, nobody reached for any firearms. The bartender removed Princess' empty glass and replaced it with a full one.  
  
"I don't know how you can drink cactus juice with a dead worm in it," Fran remarked.  
  
"I lift up the glass and suck," Princess drawled.  
  
"That's _sip_ ," Alberta corrected primly.  
  
"I say tomato," Princess reasoned, shrugging.  
  
Forty-five minutes later, the women had moved to a booth and the alcohol was kicking in.  
  
"This place is the pits," Princess announced and tipped her empty glass upside down, making a little ring of salt on the table top. She turned on her stool and surveyed the piano and its player, who was half way through _Fly me to the Moon_. "Say, how about a little sing along?" she suggested, and moved to get up.  
  
_"NO!"_ three voices chorused and Princess found herself restrained by three sets of hands.  
  
"Don't go there, girlfriend," Fran warned, eyeing off the bullet holes in the corner where the ill-fated karaoke machine had held its extremely short tenure.  
  
"This place," Princess said again, "is boring. I mean, it's a piano bar for cryin' out loud. Shouldn't you have to be over forty just to get in here?"  
  
Alberta raised an eyebrow. "It has its charm," she said.  
  
"Yeah?" Princess challenged. "Where are they hiding it?" She stood up and swayed slightly before steadying herself. “I’m going to go get another round.”  
  
Shay and Alberta exchanged worried glances. “I think we should start her on ginger ale after this,” Alberta suggested.  
  
“You think? What are our chances of success?” Shay asked.  
  
“We have to try,” Alberta said. “It’s _Thursday_! We’ve got to face our Chief of Staff in the morning.”  
  
When Princess returned with a jug of margarita mix and four glasses, Alberta hid her face in her hands.  
  
“Good luck with that,” Shay said.  
  
“Excuse me,” Alberta said and left the table.  
  
“Okay,” Princess said, taking her seat, “this is why they call her Mother Superior.”  
  
“Actually,” Shay said, “it’s one of two reasons she won’t be hung over tomorrow.”  
  
Princess paused in the act of pouring a drink into one salt-rimmed glass. “Two reasons?”  
  
“Princess, honey,” Shay said, “that gal can drink just about anybody under the table if she’s got a mind to, but for the most part, she just don’t bother.”  
  
“Huh,” Princess said. “That’s something I didn’t know about her… Hey! That’s a good game!”  
  
“What is?” Fran asked.  
  
“We have to tell each other things that the others don’t know, and it has to be something we don’t know about somebody else who we all know.”  
  
Fran took a moment to process this. “Like what?”  
  
“Like Shay just told us about Al.”  
  
“Oh…” Fran reached for a glass and gestured for the jug. “I’m going to need a margarita for this.”  
  
“You bet you are,” Princess said.  
  
“Why don’t you start?” Fran suggested.  
  
“Shay already started!” Princess pointed out.  
  
“Okay, you go next then.”  
  
“Oh, okay.” Princess downed about half the contents of her glass. “Did you know that Jason is a secret bookworm?”  
  
“ _Jason_?” Shay echoed. “Okay, I have to admit I never thought to connect the words, ‘Jason’ and ‘bookworm’ in the same sentence.”  
  
“Yeah,” Princess said. “He likes Hashiell Damn-it. And movies with Humpty Bogart.”  
  
Alberta returned to the table with two carafes of iced water. She topped up Princess’ margarita glass without being asked.  
  
“What’s that?” Princess asked, holding up her glass.  
  
Alberta attempted a smile which ended up being rather more brittle than she’d hoped for. “It’s um… a drink that they call… er… _l'eau du robinet_ [1] on Planet Vega. I thought you might like to try it.”  
  
“Okay!” Princess emptied her glass. “Doesn’t have much kick to it. You’re next.”  
  
“Next for what?” Alberta asked.  
  
Princess explained the game while Alberta filled her glass with water again. “But who are you going to tell us about?” Princess wondered aloud.  
  
“Well, I suppose I could tell you about the time Shay and I…” Alberta began, but Princess held up a hand.  
  
“Nah. I know: you gotta tell us something we don’t know about Chief Anderson.”  
  
“Oh.” Alberta sat back in her seat. “Um… I’m not sure I really know anything that you don’t know about Chief Anderson.”  
  
“Spill it, Al,” Princess said.  
  
“All right. Chief Anderson… likes camomile tea.”  
  
Princess leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Camomile tea? Seriously? That’s the best you got? I knew that anyway.”  
  
“Well… all right. He also doesn’t mind orange pekoe, but you have to warm the cup before you make the tea or he complains that it’s too weak.”  
  
“Tea? That’s pathetic!”  
  
“I want to hear more about Jason’s detective stories,” Fran said. “The Chief’s boring and Al’s just confirming what we all know to be true.”  
  
Shay filled her own glass with water. “Hear that?” she muttered to Alberta. “That’s the sound of the Bechdel Test going down the gurgler once and for all.”  
  
“Face it,” Alberta said, “the Bechdel Test never stood a chance.”  
  
"Princess, how many margaritas have you had, exactly?" Shay wanted to know.  
  
"Enough to take the edge off," Princess declared.  
  
"Taken it off, planed it, sanded it and given it a couple of coats of varnish," Alberta said.  
  
"Are you suggestetting that I can't hold my alckyhool?" Princess asked.  
  
"You're not really... well... used to it, are you?" Alberta pointed out.  
  
"That's irrelevant," Princess said. "I don't need to be used to it. I can metabolise and convert ethanol to simple carberohyderates in record time if I have to. Alls I have to do is trigger my transmutation sequence and I'm as sober as a... as a... as a person who is really sober."  
  
The two senior security officers exchanged glances.  
  
"Why don't we find a café?" Shay suggested. "I know this little place that serves a great white chocolate cheesecake," she added.  
  
"You'll go far in this organisation with that kind of attitude, Major," Alberta predicted.  
  
"I think I need to sober up," Princess said.  
  
"Food's supposed to help," Shay said helpfully.  
  
"You mentioned something about white chocolate cheesecake?" Fran recalled.  
  
Princess was suddenly all attention. "I missed that part," she said. "What about white chocolate cheesecake?"  
  
"My point exactly," Shay concluded.  
  
"I'm driving," Alberta said.  
  
"No way," Shay said. "You drive like my mother."  
  
"My point exactly," Alberta concluded.  
  
"Let her drive," Princess said, "or I'll throw up on your brand new upholstery."  
  
"You're not _that_ drunk," Shay argued. "You're not going to throw up."  
  
"The way you drive, Shay, just watch me," Princess promised.  
  
  


 

 

**_SANDY’S_ ** **_CAFFE ET DOLCE_ , CENTER CITY**

 

The waitress delivered four slices of white chocolate cheesecake, a long black, a vanilla latte, one mug of hot chocolate and a plunger of orange pekoe tea.  
  
“…Then he pulled a gun and said, ‘Freeze! Galaxy Security,’” Jones recounted, “and _I_ said ‘You freeze! Galaxy Security!’ then the veterinarian said, ‘What do you mean? _I’m_ Galaxy Security!’ and it turned out the only one who _wasn’t_ with Galaxy Security was the donkey.”  
  
Princess sipped at her coffee. "This is so not what I enziva-- envizz... expected," she said for the third time.  
  
"You were expecting maybe an evening with the Chippendales?" Shay said.  
  
Maybe we should do that next time,” Fran suggested helpfully.  
  
"I think Princess is suggesting we need to get out more," Alberta said wryly, pouring tea into her cup.  
  
"Speak for yourself. I get out more than you do, Mother Superior," Shay retorted.  
  
"That's hardly a boast," Alberta said without rancour. "Library books get taken out more than I do."  
  
"Yeah." Shay smirked as she speared a forkful of cheesecake. "You seriously need to get a life. Do people. Meet things."  
  
"I do have a life," Alberta said. "There's the Horticultural Society and the Powell Base Community Garden."  
  
"All of which involves buckets of poop, dirt and shovels. You need to get out more with things that don't involve dirt and poop."  
  
"I suppose," Alberta agreed without any enthusiasm at all.  
  
"I mean, come on," Shay said. "When was the last time you went on a date?"  
  
"Oh." Alberta considered. "It was... um... well... Let's see... "  
  
"And this is why you get called Mother Superior," Shay concluded. "You live like a nun! You never used to be this way!"  
  
"I've been busy!" Alberta protested.  
  
"You need to get back out there, girl," Shay urged.  
  
Alberta sipped at her tea. "With whom? Given our current state of war and the way Spectra keeps infiltrating the ISO, who could I date? Who can I _trust_? And don't suggest anyone we work with. I refuse to be the subject of water cooler gossip."  
  
"Wow," Fran said. "When you think about it, your options are pretty limited, aren't they? Is it a rank thing?"  
  
"Partly," Alberta said. "It’s more about the job. Look at what happened to poor Sergeant Digby from Site Security at the Tower – he thought he’d found his dream girl and she turned out to be the bloody Viper."  
  
"Security clearances aside, there’s a very rare bird that’s hard to find: a good man!" Shay said with a grin.  
  
Alberta drained her teacup and set it down on the saucer. "So much for an evening without the men." She refilled the cup from the plunger. “Perhaps we should discuss your love life, Shay,” she suggested. “How are things between you and Colonel Garrett these days?”  
  
Shay smiled smugly over the rim of her coffee cup. “I haven’t decided yet.”  
  
“You told me your date went well,” Alberta recalled.  
  
“It did. I haven’t decided yet whether to go on another one,” Shay said.  
  
Princess grinned. “Colonel Garrett from the Rigan Embassy?”  
  
“There aren’t any other Colonel Garretts that I’m aware of,” Shay drawled.  
  
“He seemed nice,” Princess said. “Spill the beans, Shay!”  
  
“Yeah, he’s nice,” Shay agreed, “but he’s also a member of the Rigan military and… well… I know we’re allies and everything…”  
  
Princess picked up one of the marshmallows that had accompanied her hot chocolate and popped it in her mouth. “So,” she mumbled around the marshmallow, “you’ve found this really nice guy and you’re thinking of walking away because he wears a red uniform instead of a blue one?”  
  
“When you put it that way…” Shay said.  
  
Princess swallowed the marshmallow. “Now you’re going to say, ‘but it’s complicated,’” she predicted.  
  
“Well, it is!” Shay insisted. “What if things get serious and he gets transferred back to Riga? What if _I_ get transferred somewhere?”  
  
Princess took a swallow of hot chocolate and worked her tongue at a bit of marshmallow caught behind one tooth. “What would you tell Al to do if was her?” she asked.  
  
Shay put her cup down. “I guess… I’d tell her to take what happiness she could out of life.”  
  
“That does sound like something you’d tell me to do,” Alberta said. “Maybe you should take your own advice. I like Polus Garrett. He’s professional and trustworthy, and if things didn’t work out he wouldn’t let it affect his working relationship with Galaxy Security.”  
  
“Well there’s a ringing endorsement if ever I heard one,” Shay said. “ _Date the guy, Shay. I can still work with him if you break up_.”  
  
“Well, I can,” Alberta reasoned.  
  
“Okay, okay,” Shay sighed. “I guess I can go on another date or two.”  
  
Princess tilted her head to one side. “How do you know what Colonel Garrett’s thinking?” she asked.  
  
Shay blinked once. “He… kind of, says what’s on his mind. It’s a thing people do.”  
  
Princess sighed. “So how do you know what he’s _feeling_?”  
  
“Oh, I get it,” Shay said. “This is about Mark, isn’t it?”  
  
“Well… I don’t really know what Mark’s thinking or feeling. He never says much.”  
  
“He can’t really,” Shay said. “He’s your commanding officer. You kind of have to follow the hints.”  
  
“That’s just it!” Princess said. “Any hints he gives me are totally inconsistent! Unless you count his inconsistency as consistent, because the consistent inconsistency in this relationship is the one consistent constant!"  
  
The others listened, carefully following the convoluted sentence.  
  
"I mean," Princess continued, "some days, I just don't know where I stand." She stared into the depths of her cup. "Some days, he's fun to be around, other days it's like he's on a downer with the whole galaxy."  
  
"It's probably just a phase," Shay said. "He's young and he has a lot on his mind."  
  
"Maybe." Princess stared dubiously into her empty cup. "You know he kissed me at the Rigan Embassy."  
  
“I knew it!” Shay declared. “Al, you owe me a dollar!”  
  
“So I do,” Alberta said. She fished in her purse then handed Shay a dollar bill. “Go on, Princess.”  
  
“He _said_ he was trying to provide a plausible explanation for the two of us being in the conservatory, but… I don’t know. What am I supposed to think?”  
  
"Regulation one-oh-nine part five," Alberta muttered.  
  
"That's just it," Princess said. "We haven't breached regulations. Not... well, you know... One-oh-nine part five's about physical intimacy, not how you _feel_ about someone. They can't regulate how people feel!"  
  
"If they could," Shay said, "they would've done it by now."  
  
"See, the thing is, one day he'll flirt with me, the next he's so focussed on the job it's a wonder he doesn't address me by rank!"  
  
The others made vaguely sympathetic noises.  
  
"It's like he only wants me around if he can afford it," Princess said bitterly. "The job comes first, second, third and all points in between, with me trailing in a sorry last. It's not like I want to be first in his life. A close second would do!"  
  
"He's a pilot, remember," Shay pointed out.  
  
"Okay, third, then," Princess conceded, with the understanding that no mere human being could supplant flying as the love of a pilot's life.  
  
Alberta sipped at her tea. "It's amazing, what we're prepared to settle for, isn't it?"  
  
"I don't see you settling for second best these days," Shay said.  
  
Alberta shrugged. "That's because I'm not in love with anyone," she said. "I've lived and learned. Love does peculiar things to the human brain. I think I'm better off single and boring than in love and miserable."  
  
"What's that saying, ' _better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all'_?" Fran quoted.  
  
"It's what they say," Shay said, "but they also say, ' _find a pin and pick it up, and all day long you'll have good luck._ ' What the hell kinda crap is that?"  
  
"What's that got to do with men?" Princess asked.  
  
"Maybe it says that they're mostly pri--" Shay started to say. "Ow! Al that was my foot."  
  
"Sorry," Alberta said. "Must have slipped. Look, Princess, maybe the reason you can’t work out what Mark’s thinking or feeling is that he doesn’t really know himself. You’re both still very young and it’s true that girls grow up faster than boys."  
  
“Yeah,” Shay agreed. “Give him time. Men are like grapes.”  
  
"Like what?" Princess asked. She took a deep draught of hot chocolate in the hope it would clear her head. "Should I be taking notes?"  
  
"Men," Alberta explained, "are like grapes. They start out as unripe fruit. Then life happens, they get trodden on and crushed, and eventually they mature into something a girl wouldn't mind having dinner with. Like a brash young red, for instance," she said, arching an eyebrow at Fran, who smiled into her cup.  
  
Shay gestured expansively with her fork. "So... you might have, say, a brash young red, slightly rough, with a pleasing palate and..." she grinned at Fran, "a sustained finish?"  
  
"Shay!" Fran blushed furiously.  
  
"Even so, I don't know that I buy into the whole wine argument as a universal metaphor," Shay said reflectively. "There's something to be said for younger men."  
  
"Such as, 'was that it, then?'" Alberta parried.  
  
Princess nearly choked on her hot chocolate. "Al!" she sputtered.  
  
"Look, for the most part," Alberta argued, "they're still learning until they're about thirty. It's all instinct and enthusiasm up until then."  
  
"It's the enthusiasm I'm talking about," Shay said. "Sure, they don't know what they're doing, but whatever it is, they can do it over and over again."  
  
Alberta topped up her tea from the plunger. "Persistence is all very well, I suppose," she conceded. "Still, I prefer it if they can get it right the first time. Mind you," she added wistfully, "getting it right the second and subsequent times doesn't hurt..."  
  
Princess blinked, reeling. "I really should be taking notes," she mumbled. She reached for a napkin and fumbled in her purse for a pen. Very carefully, she wrote,  
  
_Men = grapes. Squish. Process of fermentation. Expertise =/ persistence.  
Ask Jason about Mark's sex life._  
  
After a moment's consideration, she added, _Mark? Sex life? HA!_  
  
Shay leaned over and scanned the somewhat wobbly handwriting. "That's probably more than I needed to know," she observed, and took refuge in her vanilla latte.  
  
Alberta chuckled and Princess gave the senior officer a calculating look. "You," she said, extending an accusing finger in Alberta's direction, "are different."  
  
Alberta blinked once. "Is it the accent?" she asked. "It's the accent isn't it? Damned thing always gives me away."  
  
Princess glowered. "You're laughing, and smiling... and - and joking! And you have _friends_. You never smile at the office. You've always got the Mother Superior thing going on. Now all of a sudden, you're _normal_!"  
  
"Looks like you've been sprung, Colonel," Fran said.  
  
Alberta sighed and sipped rather primly at her tea before setting the cup down in its saucer. "Do you take me seriously, Princess?" she asked.  
  
"Of course I do!" Princess leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. "You're good at what you do, and, I mean, it's hard enough for women in the service - it doesn't matter how much equal opportunity legislation they put in place - without women not taking each other seriously."  
  
"Right." Alberta's smile had faded. She stood up. "Pretend we've never met. What do you see?" she asked.  
  
"Um... A lady... older than me. Blonde. Well dressed, good figure, average height. Why?"  
  
"Imagine me at your age, wearing an outfit like Fran’s."  
   
Princess giggled. "I don't think you’d have to buy too many of your own drinks!"  
  
Alberta resumed her seat and tucked her chair back in. "So, there I was as a freshman at the Academy. I'm not brilliant like you, or clever like Shay - I've got a bleeding _humanities_ degree for heaven's sake! I'm not an outstanding achiever in anything. All I had was self-discipline, stubbornness and a willingness to learn. I had to work really, really, _really_ hard to make people see that I'm not some blonde bimbo, and twenty years later I'm still working at it."  
  
"Oh." Princess stared at her coffee cup. She considered for a moment. "I've never heard anyone make comments around the office."  
  
"That’s twenty years of cultivating the ice bitch reputation," Alberta explained. "I don't think anyone would dare say a word where I might overhear. Which means they save it for the locker room."  
  
"You're telling me the Mother Superior thing is all an act?" Princess surmised.  
  
"I think of it more as compartmentalisation," Alberta said. "The sarcasm's all me, though. Can't help myself, really."  
  
"So that's your big secret, huh?" Princess took another forkful of cheesecake and spent a moment dealing with it. "What about you, Shay? Anything to share?"  
  
"Nah," Shay said with a good-natured grin. "What you see is what you get."  
  
Fran uttered a rather unladylike snort. "Says the woman studying for a Master’s Degree in engineering!"  
  
"No!" Princess breathed. "Really?"  
  
"It's no biggie," Shay said. "I took some study leave a few years back, started working toward my Master's and was all set to transfer to the Terraforming Corps, then Spectra attacked Riga while I was on it. Really ticked me off. So I hung around. I can go terraforming after the war."  
  
"You never did tell me about Riga," Princess recalled.  
  
"It was noisy," Shay said.  
  
"Unpleasant bit of business, that," Alberta recalled. "Shay was holding the Minister's leash and I was assigned to the Ambassador. We were taking fire and Shay's man was wittering on about having to go back for a briefcase that didn’t contain sensitive or classified information, so she popped him one and had him carried out to the transport."  
  
"Wow," Princess said again.  
  
"She got a commendation for bravery under fire, then half an hour afterward she was demoted back to Captain for assaulting a diplomat."  
  
"Yeah, that was quite a day," Shay recalled. "I wound up cooling my heels for nearly a year at Waldo base on Lucavia, then when Al needed a replacement 2IC for the Chief’s detail, she had me haul ass back to Earth. Seems she convinced the Chief I'd suffered enough for my sins. Or that he hasn't suffered enough for his."  
  
"What's it like on Lucavia?" Fran asked. "I've never been there."  
  
"Wet," Princess said.  
  
"Oh, you've visited!" Shay rolled her eyes. "Is there any place on that gosh-forsaken rock where it doesn't rain at least twice a day?"  
  
"We weren't there for long," Princess said. "We didn't get to do a lot of sightseeing, if you know what I mean."  
  
"Lucavia's not all bad -" Alberta started to say.  
  
"Oh, right!" Shay made a jabbing motion in Alberta's general direction with her fork. "You got stationed at the Embassy for twelve weeks in fifty-eight and the only sightseeing you did was the Miri Attaché's bedroom ceiling!"  
  
Alberta's smile was serene. "He was the Third Secretary and it wasn't _just_ the ceiling, dearie."  
  
Princess made a conscious effort to close her mouth. "You..."  
  
"Did what lots of people do," Alberta said. “Anyway, it’s ancient history.”  
  
“Were you… I mean, did you…” Princess struggled for words. “What happened at the end of the twelve weeks?”  
  
“I finished the job I’d been sent to do and went back to my substantive assignment,” Alberta said. “It wasn’t the romance of the century, you know. Sometimes things just happen.”  
  
“You mean, like a fling?”  
  
“Something like that.” Alberta shrugged.  
  
“Is this one of those things I’ll understand when I’m older?” Princess asked.  
  
“I think that might be it,” Alberta said. “When I was your age I believed quite thoroughly in love, romance and all that. It didn’t work out for me. It might work out for you.”  
  
“You think?” Princess leaned on the table and rested her chin in the heel of one hand. “Sometimes I think I’ll fall in love and be happy. Other times I just don’t know.”  
  
  


 

 

**SNACK J DINER, CENTER CITY**

 

The credits rolled and Keyop stared at the screen. “What the heck?”  
  
“It’s not exactly your typical storyline,” Jason said.  
  
“So the whole movie was just a bunch of people running around acting like jerks over a MacGuffin that wasn’t even the real MacGuffin?”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“That’s…”  
  
“A lot like real life,” Jason concluded.  
  
“Why did the woman act all helpless?” Keyop wanted to know. “Why did she have to manipulate other people to get what she was after?”  
  
“Most women were pretty powerless back then,” Jason explained. “Society had a lot of double standards in the early twentieth century. Even more the further back you go. You know when the novel was written, women had only had the right to vote for ten years in the old United States?” [2]  
  
“Huh,” Keyop said. “I bet if anyone tried to treat Princess like that she’d knock their head off.”  
  
“Or bite it off,” Jason said. “Remember that time on Urgos when I suggested that she go back to the ship?”  
  
“Yeah, well you suggested I go back to the ship, too,” Keyop growled. “You deserved what you got.”  
  
“So, anyway, I suppose you can tell your English tutor that you’ve seen _The Maltese Falcon_ and that it depicts attitudes of the time that no longer apply today. Or something. What was it you said? Informed and reflected?”  
  
“Yeah,” Keyop said. “Speaking of women, what do you think Princess is up to now?”  
  
“No idea,” Jason said.  
  
  


 

 

**DOWNTOWN, CENTER CITY**

 

The department store window display was full of frills and silk.  
  
“I wish I could wear stuff like that,” Princess sighed.  
  
“No reason you couldn’t,” Fran said.  
  
“Except possibly for reasons of good taste,” Shay muttered.  
  
“I can’t,” Princess said. “I usually have to wear my… you know… work stuff. Because classified.”  
  
“Well, that made sense to someone, somewhere,” Alberta reasoned.  
  
“Probably Zark,” Shay said.  
  
“Okay, ladies. Purses, now,” a voice declared.  
  
The four women slowly turned around to see a man wielding a knife. He was wearing an expensive leather jacket that looked to be a couple of sizes too large for him and had a wild gleam in his eyes. His jeans were grubby, as were his running shoes and he smelled of sweat and stale beer.  
  
The calm – if decidedly irritated – regard with which his victims assessed him made the would-be attacker take a half step backward.  
  
“Seriously?” Shay asked him. “You seriously want to go there?”  
  
“Oh, dear,” Alberta said, putting her hands on her hips. “This is going to mean paperwork, isn’t it?”  
  
“Listen, bitches,” the man snarled, “I’m not messing around. Hand over your purses or I start cutting you up.”  
  
“The only question,” Shay said, “is who’s going to do it?”  
  
“I’m not carrying!” Fran protested.  
  
“These shoes are brand new and they’re Italian,” Alberta said. “I’m not scuffing them on their first outing and the alternative is that we kill him outright. Not my first choice.”  
  
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Princess grumbled. “ _My_ shoes are indestructible.” She flowed forward, seemingly without effort and kicked. Her foot connected with the knife-wielding hand and there was a sickening snap as the man’s wrist broke.  
  
The would-be mugger uttered a shriek of agony and gasped, his knees buckling as he sank to the pavement while the knife spun through the air and clattered onto the concrete a short distance away.  
  
Princess regarded him dispassionately as he rocked back and forth, cradling the injured wrist in his left hand, moaning in pain. She put her hands on her hips. “Way to ruin a perfectly good evening,” she griped. “Now…” Princess’ voice trailed off as she caught a glimpse of red inside the gaping lapel of the leather jacket.  
  
The shape was all too familiar: a stylised feline head with narrowed, glaring eyes.  
  
Princess lunged and grabbed the comm badge, tearing the lining of the jacket as she did so. “Where’d you get this?” she hissed. “I know you must’ve stolen this jacket. You’re going to tell me where you got it and who you got it from.”  
  
The thief’s eyes widened in terror, but he was looking _past_ Princess, not at her.  
  
Instinct and training kicked in and Princess spun away from the thief as a bullet ricocheted off the pavement. The thief scrambled to his feet and fled as a burly man holding a gun advanced. The new arrival was in shirt sleeves, Princess noted.  
  
Two distinctive clicks behind her had Princess glancing over her shoulder. Both Shay and Alberta had their guns trained on the armed man. They fired as he ran for an alleyway, and missed.  
  
“You brought your _guns_ on a girls’ night out?” Fran demanded.  
  
Shay swore and took off after the fleeing man with the others hot on her heels. Princess overtook Shay in a matter of seconds and was in the alleyway seeking out her prey. A metallic clang overhead drew her attention and she saw a foot disappearing from a fire escape on to the roof.  
  
“Aw, crud,” Princess grumbled, “ _Transmute!_ ”  
  
“Holy shit,” Shay breathed as the light faded.  
  
“What?” Princess demanded. “You’ve never seen me do this before?”  
  
“Um, no,” Fran said.  
  
“He’s getting _away_ ,” Alberta pointed out, somewhat waspishly.  
  
Princess leapt high, used the safety rail of the fire escape like a gymnast’s bar to vault up and over and she was on the roof. She spotted her quarry and broke into a sprint.  
  
The man was taking a run up to the edge of the roof and leapt for the neighbouring building, which was several feet lower. He landed and was off again.  
  
It didn’t take Princess long to catch up. The fleeing man must have heard her as he turned and fired wildly, slowing his pursuer down as she ducked and used her cape to shield herself. The man dodged behind some air conditioning equipment and Princess heard a door slam.  
  
She stopped and listened for the sounds of feet hurrying down a stairwell. Even through her helmet, her enhanced hearing should have picked up the sound, if only for a moment.  
  
Silently, she padded around the air conditioning plant. Fortunately, it wasn’t switched on or the noise would have prevented her from hearing anything else. She palmed her yo-yo and tensed.  
  
She leaped and somersaulted as the Spectran lunged out from behind the access stairs, firing again. He turned and ran, and Princess gave chase.  
  
The Spectran clattered down another external fire escape. Princess leaned over the edge of the roof and ducked as bullets zipped up toward her.  
  
A familiar voice called out, “ _Freeze!_ Galaxy Security! Drop your weapon!”  
  
Princess kicked off from the roof and let her cape wings carry her down into a side street.  
  
Alberta Jones was standing on the pavement with her service pistol aimed at the Spectran while Fran Patrick was retrieving the gun he’d tossed down to the ground. The Spectran was on the stairwell with both hands in the air in a gesture of surrender.  
  
“Come down slowly,” Alberta said. “I won’t miss at this range.”  
  
The Spectran complied. Princess pulled a pair of cable ties from a hidden compartment in her belt and took hold of the man’s wrists. She secured him and frisked him for weapons.  
  
“How’d you two get here so fast anyway?” she asked.  
  
“We weren’t being shot at and Zark was tracking you,” Alberta said. “Backup’s on the way.”  
  
“Where’s Shay?” Princess asked.  
  
“She lit off after the other guy,” Fran said. “The mugger.”  
  
“He had a knife,” Princess recalled.  
  
“This is _Shay_ we’re talking about here,” Fran said. “She’s the last person you need to worry about. Besides, you broke the guy’s hand. He’s toast.”  
  
There was a dull sound and the Spectran’s knees buckled. Princess saw the blood spatter on to the white wings of her cape and moved, gathering the other two women up and bearing them bodily to the other side of the street to take cover in the lee of a kebab shop.  
  
“Sniper!” she gasped. She glanced back at the dead Spectran. There was a small entry wound in his forehead, just above the bridge of his nose. The back of his head wasn’t visible but if the amount of blood was anything to go by, Princess suspected there wasn’t much left of it. “Keep your heads down and your guard up.”  
  
The sound of engines drew closer and Princess made her way along the wall of the building, straining her hearing for the tell-tale sounds that might accompany someone dismantling a sniper rifle. Better yet – rapid footfalls from above suggested someone was running along a nearby rooftop.  
  
Princess took off and hit the ground running.  
  
She ducked down an alleyway and leaped on to a covered dumpster, then jumped again onto a low roof. She could still hear her quarry and sought high ground. A window cleaner’s platform on the outside of a mid-rise office block made for a good vantage point. Princess’ enhanced vision caught sight of movement heading away from her and she kicked off into a glide, the nanotechnology in her cape wings bearing her aloft.  
  
The sniper, his rifle slung over one shoulder, was running and jumping. From the way he moved, Princess guessed that he must have been cybernetically enhanced. An updraft from a cooling tower almost put her into aerodynamic stall but she hunched her shoulders and lowered her angle of attack to lose height.  
  
The loss of height meant she gained speed and Princess made the split second decision to overtake the Spectran. She touched down ahead of him, pirouetted and drew her yo-yo. Even as the Spectran reached for his gun, Princess had cast her weapon and was moving again.  
  
The yo-yo struck its target in the jaw and he staggered. Princess closed, kicked and kept the sniper off-balance long enough to dance behind him and land a solid punch to the kidneys. She spun around and delivered a chop to the forearm, sending the sniper’s handgun clattering to the concrete. A grab, a twist, a kick and she had him on his knees in an arm lock.  
  
“I sure hope there aren’t any more of you guys,” she told him. “It’s _supposed_ to be my night off.”  
  
Princess’ wristband chimed. “ _7-Zark-7 calling G-3_.”  
  
“Tell me you’ve got backup inbound,” Princess said.  
  
“ _Affirmative,_ ” Zark replied. “ _I’ve diverted a Center City Police Department helicopter to your location._ ”  
  
A police helicopter descended in a roar and clatter of rotor blades. The spotlight was blindingly bright but Princess didn’t let go of her captive.  
  
Within minutes, the Spectran was handcuffed and aboard the aircraft. Princess didn’t stay to watch them leave but headed back to find her erstwhile companions.  
  
She found them loading the body of the first Spectran into one black Galaxy Security van and bundling the failed mugger into another.  
  
“Did he get far, Shay?” Princess asked.  
  
“Far enough to piss me off,” Shay said. She folded her arms and watched as the doors on the vans slid shut and the vehicles drew away.  
  
“I guess that’s that,” Princess said. “Transmute!” As the wave of energy dissipated, Princess shivered and put one hand to her hair. Her jacket had been destroyed and her hair was back to its usual style. “Ugh. I’m going to have to fill out paperwork tomorrow if I want that jacket replaced,” she grumbled.  
  
“After all that,” Shay said, “I need another drink.”  
  
  


 

 

**AMANO'S BAR AND GRILL, CENTER CITY**

 

“Why are we here again?” Princess asked.  
  
“Because we need another drink,” Shay said.  
  
“And it’s safe,” Alberta added. The women had settled in to one of the booths up against a wall. It was shadowy and close to the rest rooms.  
  
Fran brought a tray of drinks to the table and set it down before easing into her seat.  
  
“I can’t believe you two bring your side arms with you when you go out for drinks!” she grumbled.  
  
“I can’t believe you don’t,” Shay retorted.  
  
“A gun that size wouldn’t fit in this purse!” Fran protested, indicating the accessory in question.  
  
“I suggest you take that into account the next time you buy a purse,” Alberta said.  
  
Princess grabbed the margarita and took a swallow.  
  
“Careful, girl. You know what they say about tequila,” Shay cautioned.  
  
“No,” Princess said. “What do they say about tequila?”  
  
The others chorused: “One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor!”  
  
“Very funny,” Princess said. “I can’t believe you all do this for fun.”  
  
“I don’t know that I’d call it ‘fun,’ exactly,” Alberta said. She picked up her lemon, lime and bitters and set it on a coaster.  
  
“I definitely wouldn’t call it fun,” Princess said. “Don’t you ever disco dance or anything?”  
  
The two older women exchanged glances. “Not so much these days,” Shay said. “I used to.”  
  
“Mostly we just drink and complain about our jobs,” Alberta confessed, “and Shay’s got more to complain about.”  
  
“Why’s that?” Princess asked.  
  
“I just complain about Chief Anderson. Shay complains about Chief Anderson and then she complains about me.”  
  
“Well, yeah,” Shay said. “I mean, you’re all, ‘Shay, don’t shoot the prisoners!’ ‘Shay, don’t hit your protection assignment!’ ‘Shay, don’t call our Chief of Staff a mad scientist!’”  
  
“I only told you not to shoot the prisoners that one time!” Alberta protested. “We only _had_ prisoners that one time!”  
  
“Which gives you a one hundred percent strike rate,” Shay concluded.  
  
“You left out, ‘Shay, don’t drive a speeding sports car through a red light,’” Alberta said.  
  
“There’s that too!” Shay declared. “You see what I have to put up with?”  
  
Princess chuckled. “You two are as bad as Mark and Jason – ‘Mark, I want to fire the bird missiles!’ ‘No, Jason, you can’t fire the bird missiles until I say so!’”  
  
“What, seriously?” Fran grinned. “Tell me more.”  
  
Several drinks later, Princess was feeling relaxed and happy, but the floor still seemed a long way off.  
  
“You know,” Shay said, “once we’ve finished these, we should go home.”  
  
“You mean I don’t get to find out how many tequilas equal floor?” Princess wailed.  
  
“Some other time, perhaps,” Alberta said.  
  
  
  
Princess managed to persuade the others to stay for one more round before weariness won out and the little group made its way out of Amano’s Bar and down the street to where Shay had parked the red Nissan.  
  
"Ooh, look, a tattoo parlour!" Princess stopped and stepped into the doorway of a brightly lit shop.  
  
The requisite large bearded man in leather looked her up and down from behind the counter and made a set of assumptions. Some of them were correct. Some of them weren't.  
  
"Come on, girl," Fran said. "We need to get home."  
  
"I want a tattoo!" Princess decided, eyes alight.  
  
"Maybe you think you want one now, but you won't in the morning," Fran predicted as Shay and Alberta doubled back and caught up.  
  
"I want a pink swan with the words, 'Zoltar sucks!' on it," Princess announced.  
  
"Somehow, I doubt that," Shay said.  
  
"No, I do," Princess insisted. "I really do."  
  
"You can't get a tattoo," Alberta hissed at her. "It's a _distinguishing mark!_ "  
  
"I can too get a tattoo if I want one!" Princess said, pouting. "You're no fun. I want something to remember tonight by."  
  
"You'll have a tequila hangover," Shay predicted darkly. "Won't that be enough?"  
  
"Maybe I can offer a solution, ladies," said the big man behind the counter.  
  
  


 

 

**GALAXY SECURITY EXECUTIVE OFFICE SUITE, ISO TOWER, CENTER CITY**

 

Security Chief Anderson leaned forward slightly in his executive chair, elbows on the desk, glaring over steepled fingers at Alberta Jones. "Tell me why," he said, "Keyop just called me to say that Princess is locked in her bathroom, having apparently woken up this morning with a hangover and a _tattoo_?"  
  
"Possibly something to do with tequila, sir?" Lieutenant Colonel Jones hazarded a guess from her seat on the other side of Anderson's desk.  
  
Anderson skewered Jones with the sort of look that tended to make sensible people start to back away very carefully without making any sudden moves. "Colonel, exactly what happened last night?"  
  
"Just a girls' night out, sir," Jones said, keeping her countenance stony.  
  
"And?" Anderson prompted ominously.  
  
"Once we got past the mugging attempt, the murder attempt, the capture and subsequent killing of a Spectran agent, the capture of the sniper who killed the aforementioned agent and the apprehension of our somewhat unfortunate mugger, we had a few drinks, then Princess stopped at a tattoo parlour. She claimed to want a tattoo of a pink swan with the words, 'Zoltar sucks' on it. An admirable sentiment, I'm sure."  
  
"Oh, no," Anderson buried his face in his hands, envisioning laser surgery and the embarrassment of having to explain the expense item to Secretary Claybourne.  
  
"It didn't seem like such a bad idea at the time, sir," Jones continued blithely. "We all got one."  
  
"What?" Anderson raised his head, frowning in disbelief.  
  
"We all got one, sir," Jones repeated. Her eyes glittered. "Would you like to see mine?"  
  
Anderson's train of thought, such as it was, suffered an abrupt and catastrophic derailment. Any number of potential responses jostled for position in the wreckage, but all that came out was a hoarse, _"What?"_  
  
Jones reached into her pocket and withdrew a little clear plastic zip lock bag containing a small rectangle of plastic film, which she passed across the desk. The film had been printed with a picture of a pink swan and the words, 'Zoltar sucks.'  
  
Anderson resumed breathing. “That’s…”  
  
"One of those temporary things, sir," Jones explained. "It was obvious Princess wasn't thinking as clearly as she usually does, so the chap in the shop made these up for us and we all bought one for a bit of a laugh."  
  
One corner of Anderson's mouth twitched. "Does Princess know it's removable?"  
  
"I suppose there's a chance she doesn't remember _all_ the details, sir," Jones speculated.  
  
Anderson considered this for a moment. "I think," he said reflectively, "I'll let her figure this one out on her own."  
  


**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Rainwater.  
> 2\. In the US, women were given the right to vote in 1920. In Australia, women were able to vote and stand for parliament from 1901 (earlier in some States and Territories.) Women in the UK were able to vote from 1918, as were Canadian women. Australia has had two female Heads of State, one female Governor General (Viceroy) and one female Prime Minister. The UK has had two female Heads of State (11 if you count the English and Scottish Queens Regnant prior to unification) and two female Prime Ministers. As of the time of writing (2016) the US is yet to elect a female President or Vice-President.


End file.
